


Under The Stars

by Evax3



Series: The King's Desire [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Archery, Ass Play, Battle Scenes, Battle in the Whispering Wood, Fanart, First Kiss, In Public, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Swords, Underwater Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evax3/pseuds/Evax3
Summary: They fight the battle in the Whispering Wood without their lips have ever touched. Things cannot stay this way.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Series: The King's Desire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912576
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	Under The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I've rewritten this story at least ten times, always adding something, deleting something. It's really not perfect, but I wanted it ready for the first day of bingo. So now it is what it is. I hope you like it anyway! :)

His hands are steady. Even with his whole body trembling, the tip of his foot brushing impatiently across the forest floor, his breath faltering. But his hands, his hands are steady.

„Wait. Just a little more,” Robb whispers to his right and Theon is close to snap at him, because who does he tell? 

Instead, he keeps his mouth shut, because now is not the time to question his _lord's_ orders, even if he's all too eager to do so. For he's more than ready, the string of his bow stretched, pointed at the clearing in front of them. Its vibration almost tangible through his thumb, resting just a touch away from his cheek. 

And besides, waiting is definitely not his strongest suit.

Still somehow, he finds himself forced to do so quite often these days. Not only now, but then during the sunset, leaning against the post outside Robb's tent. Where only the steady tapping of his boot has revealed his unrest.

Night had almost fallen, when Robb returned from talking to his mother, his expression stern, somewhat unfathomable. Thoughtful mayhaps, but it was only the barely noticeable shaking of his head that has shown Theon that something was wrong. And nervous himself he entered the tent behind him. 

_Did he refuse?_ Theon asked him right away. 

Still Robb has taken his time to answer. _He permits us to pass, but there are conditions._

_What kind?_

His answer was full of regret, Theon saw it in his deep blue eyes. But he had no choice. Neither of them did. Still it felt like cold steel suddenly pressed against his throat. Decisive.

And he hated himself for letting it hit him so unaware. That he allowed himself to feel that way in the first place. To let it come to this. Because why did it even bother him? It shouldn't. It was only to be expected that Robb would one day find a suitable lady wife, as little lords just do. 

But deep inside him, there's this voice, there has always been this voice, telling him that this was not how it's supposed to be, because Robb was _his_. 

Theon forced the voice to be silent. Because only a fool would even think so. Also it was Robb's fault, his fault for him to believe that a little groping behind closed doors meant something, mumbling dirty words in quiet moments. They didn't mean anything.

 _Theon_.

When he heard him say his name, he almost let his posture slip, for he knew that Robb saw what he felt, what he thought, in the blink of an eye. But his pride did not allow him to respond as he wished, but made him smile instead as so often in his life. 

_Go and win then_ , he said with a crocked smirk, straightened up, and turned to leave.

_What choice do I have?_

He didn't go into it further. Just looked over his shoulder once more as he reached for the entrance of the tent. _Take my bones to the sea, will you?_ he said with a snicker, _because it'd be the worst to die and then be buried under that dreary rocks in Winterfell._

_I'm sorry_ , Robb replied, sad and disappointed, like they were having two completely different conversations. 

But that was that.

And after this, they hadn't been alone once more. 

When they crossed the twins with a horned moon floating upon the river, Robb has been riding at the head with his uncle and mother. Theon though preferred to ride far more at the back between the other bannermen, with a mood more at ease and lighter than at the front. Something that Theon's mind definitely favored.

Then there were meetings of the war council, discussing strategy sometimes loudly and sometimes quietly, but always anew, until they could all recite the plan in their sleep. Which has been needed after that day, however short and restless it was.

Theon missed a warm body beside him, strong arms clinging to him and thick curls tickling his face. But he has remained where he was, in his own tent, cold and alone. Listening to the sound of the river until a head stuck in his tent to tell him that he had to get ready.

What finally led him to this moment. Hidden among the thicket of trees, their eyes aimed at the valley with a light stream making its way through, as the path fills with Lannister soldiers, the longer they wait. Murmurs and some laughter fills the air, the splashing of water added to the tread of horses and the rattle of swords. 

And Robb back at his side, covered in steel, ready to face death without their lips ever touching.

—

It feels so cruel. And Theon gives a soft sigh to his left, reflecting his mood, stretches his bowstring just a little more. 

Robb forces himself to turn his eyes forward, to concentrate on the battle, on the plan. Yet they peer again to the man besides him without him being able to prevent it. Should he be afraid, he does not let it show. 

He tries to do the same. He tries to loosen the hand that clenches the knob of his sword in an iron grip. His auburn curls covered by his helm, hiding even his blue eyes, for when Theon turns his head and his eyes meet Robb's gaze, he likely sees just black inside his visor. 

But he's sure Theon knows what expression they contain. 

“Don't mourn me,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet that only Theon can hear it. Because he has to say something. His last words must not be the announcement of this dreadful alliance. His last words should have been so much more honest. And they should have been sealed with a kiss, a kiss Robb is carving for far too long.

The corners of Theon's mouth twitch, even if his eyes are open and honest, like he hears what he thinks, showing Robb what he rarely allows. But then he looks away, turns his gaze back to the front. “I won't,” he says.

A lie, as they both know.

But still Robb nods, then goes back and mounts his horse. 

—

He looks like a knight, sitting on his grey stallion with all his steal. It's a sight that makes Theon confident, for whatever the night might hold for them. Whatever is between them, whatever was there. It has no place here now.

 _We'll smash them_ , he thinks for himself, _blood for blood_. Just as he foretold Robb. As it is meant to be. For Jory. For Lord Eddard.

The second the last rider has entered the valley, a warhorn sounds from the hill on the other side of the stream. Followed by Grey Wind's howling, sending a shiver down his back as adrenaline starts to boil in his veins. 

Now time has come.

They fight by the water. May the Drowned God be watching upon them.

All sounds follow each other quickly, the sounds of war from all around them. Umbers, Mallisters, Freys and finally Lord Karstark's horn, deep and threatening.

Theon knows there's no reason to wait any longer, takes a deep breath and shoots his first arrow, which hits a soldier right between the eyes. It's the beginning for a shower of spikes to rain down on them. When he docks the next one, aims and fires. As do the bowmen around him, following his lead. 

Then there is Robb's voice ringing upon them as he rides into battle, leading his own men down the hill.

Where the forces meet like the waves on the coast of Pyke, crashing hard against the stony shore. Horses neighing and swords clash. And Theon's mind is on fire as he shoots down one arrow after another. The more riders reach the valley, the more difficult it is to distinguish friend from foe. The weak moonlight is no help either. And everything's moving way too fast. 

So when he reaches behind himself and his fingers feel nothing but cold air, he's almost grateful.

With quick steps he walks towards his own horse and swings himself into the saddle. Draws his sword even before he can grasp the reins properly. And he's not thinking about Winterfell, nor thinking about the Starks. _For Robb,_ he thinks, when he spots him among the crowd, when his steel strikes the first man down.

With every thrust Theon makes, he loses more of his orientation. Chaos is around him. Blood and screaming men everywhere he looks. His body calls up all the training he had without thinking. Where to hit, how to hit.

He hears Grey Wind's growling and hissing as he tears one man to shreds after another. Robb is always near him or it's the other way around, Theon can't tell. But as his gaze falls on them, Robb just pulls his sword out of the belly of a man, collapsing in front of him. 

_He fights like he never did anything else in his life._

It is this short moment, which is enough of a distraction, as the next moment Theon's horse cries out and he finds himself on the ground all of a sudden. The hard impact forces all air out of his lungs. And it hurts. 

But he has to act fast. _Now_. Jumps back on his feet, so he can just barely dodge the blade that cuts past his face. Once. Twice.

The attacker strikes again, but this time Theon is prepared and hits his sword with his own. Steel on steel. And it is not fear, weather for his life nor the ones around him, that keeps him going. But pure rage. And the desire for vengeance. 

“To me! To me!” Robb calls and Theon spins around. 

He lost his helm, his auburn mane stained with blood and mud. And his gaze is desperate as he gathers his men around him to set a new course. But strategies are of no use now, all that matters is instinct.

One of them knows that for sure. 

Theon recognizes him without a doubt. Both his armor and hair silvered by the moonlight; Jaime Lannister dashes through the soldiers with only one aim in mind. An aim which he fixes, which also catches Theon's gaze and then _there is fear_. Cold and painful it drives into his bones.

“No,” he breathes, his head shooting from side to side, looking for the quickest way, but every path is blocked. “Robb!” he yells, hoping that he can see him in time.

And then his blue eyes find Theon's, but then they spot his challenger as well.

His fist tightly closed around the grip of his sword, as he stands there, determined and brave. Theon can't bear to watch it. Where for all gods' sake is his direwolf?

But for whatever reason, Grey Wind's too far away, and so is Theon. Even if he smashes down one man after another, with pure desperation that drives him, he can't reach him soon enough. And Lannister is almost there.

Then it's Daryn Hornwood, who slows him down and pays for it with his life. Next Torrhen Karstark, who first loses his hand and then his breath. And finally, his brother Eddard. Blinded with rage he tries to avenge his death until the sword of the Kingslayer sticks in his neck. But still they saved the life of their lord. Just like Theon couldn't.

When it's over, they reach him all at once. 

Grey Wind and the Greatjon, both growling at Ser Jaime, who kneels in the mud and yields, still his green eyes are fixed on Robb and filled with contempt. 

Theon though can't hear anything, can't say anything, fear and anger and despair still flowing through his blood. It's too difficult to think right now. 

But slowly the noises around him fall silent, become quieter. And his brain starts forming thoughts again. 

They survived it, have made it. 

Won, a great victory, a great conquest. 

Robb seems unhurt. 

It's more than Theon has dreamed of. And yet it has come so close to being a nightmare. Had it not been for Hornwood and the Karstraks.

He gives Robb one last look to really make sure he's breathing and won't collapse the next second, then he turns to the Kingslayer, grabs him by the arm and pulls him to his feet along with the Greatjon. 

“Get up you piece of shit,” Theon spits and receives only a sneer in return. 

Only now does he realize how much he's shaking. So he tightens his grip around Lannister's arm as they follow Robb up the hill where Lady Catelyn is waiting for them.

—

Robb thought he was with him. A few steps behind, waiting as well for that they may finally have a moment of privacy.

But as soon as the Kingslayer is lying in chains, tied to a pole at the left end of their camp, four of his bannermen standing guard and Robb has a chance to focus on something else, he realizes that Theon is gone.

_When has he left?_

He asks the Greatjon but he only shrugs, so does his mother, still complemented by a firm look. He should be with his men, celebrating the victory, but right now it's the last thing that comes to his mind. 

“Go find him,” he tells Grey Wind and follows the wolf deep into the forest, to the lower end of the river. 

The moon gives a dim light, even if it won't be long before sunrise. But now it's difficult to spot something in the darkness. Branches get tangled up in his hair and he has a hard time following Grey, who makes his way through the thicket on silent paws. 

Then the first thing he sees is the glitter of the water. Theon standing right next to it, his armor beside his feet on the ground. His hair is no longer tucked back but falls over his shoulders in wild black curls. Streaks of dirt and splashes of blood decorate his naked body, there where the steel has let it through. 

It does no harm to its beauty, nothing can for all he knows.

Robb allows himself a moment to enjoy the picture. The way his muscles stretch across his back as he reaches down to loosen the laces of his boots. He is aware of his desire growing inside him, to feel the warm skin beneath his fingers. And so he takes one step forward without even knowing.

A stick cracks under his boot and in the blink of an eye Theon has bow and arrow in his hand, taken from the trunk nearby, ready to shoot in Robb's direction.

He jumps back, palms raised. “Hold on, it's me!”

Theon's gaze is sharp and definite, despite the mud on his forehead and the blood on his cheek. He looks like a warrior and Robb can't deny the things this sight is doing to him. 

Carefully he goes on, stepping into the moonlight so Theon has a chance to recognize him. And when he does, his posture slackens.

“Seven hells, Robb,” he breathes and drops his arrow, “what are you _doing_ here?”

“I was looking for you.” He doesn't know why he has to tell the obvious. Where Theon rolls his eyes at his reply, gets back to his boots in order to avoid his gaze.

“That's not what I meant … you should be with the others.”

“Neither are you.”

His dark eyes meet his with his brows narrowed. This close, Robb can see the tremor going through Theon's hands as he fiddles with the laces. Where he considers to offer his help, but the way he speaks already indicates rejection. 

“Well, I'm not their lord, am I?” he snaps back and finally removes the second boot, “besides I have to get rid of all this.” Waving his blood-stained hand over his face.

“Good,” Robb says, reaches for the buckle of his breastplate, “so do I.”

Somehow he has hoped Theon would gift him with a smile for this. He knows he can be stubborn, and that sometimes it drives him to madness, and yet somehow Robb has thought that he might be happy for him to stay. That he still longs for the same thing as he himself does.

Mayhaps he's wrong.

Without giving him a second glance Theon takes off his breeches and walks with quick steps into the water. His perfect backside on full exposure. And even when half of his body is covered beneath the surface, still he doesn't show any sign of reaction. Though Robb knows if things were good between them, he would. 

—

The water feels like heaven against his skin, a wonderful treatment for his sore muscles. His eyelids droop involuntarily from the pleasure of it. But still somehow he doesn't want Robb to notice. 

It is bad enough that he didn't leave him alone. That he keeps looking at him _like that_. Because of course he knows the look, knows what it means. But he has no right to look at him like that anymore. Didn't he make that clear by telling him he was about to wed that Frey girl? 

Though what is it he wants? 

For Theon knows exactly what it is _he_ desires. Now even more so than ever mayhaps. The brief prospect of losing him has driven all other thoughts away. That is why he fled, to chase them away, to wash them away. 

But somehow Robb won't let him.

“Seven bloody buggering hells,” he sighs beside him. 

There Theon can't help but smirk, it's just too rare that the perfect lordling swears like this, forgetting all his proper manners. And although he knows he shouldn't do it, he risks a peek to the side, following the small waves breaking against Robb's chest.

_Drowned god, why is he just so beautiful?_

Strong and manly and without a single piece of clothing on his muscular body. Whereupon Theon balls his traitorous hands to a fist, not to stretch them out, not to reach for him. To grab him. To hold him. To press himself against him. But of course Robb then does exactly just that.

Yet he takes more time then Theon would. Turns slowly. Reaches for his arm with the hint of a touch. Then slides it up his skin almost tenderly, until his thumb reaches his jaw, tracing the bone before finally his fingers rest in the back of his neck. 

“They'll be looking for you,” Theon whispers in one last attempt to convince them both that they shouldn't do this anymore. 

“So let them look.” 

Robb's warm breath tickles his cheek as he moves closer, as his hip comes into contact with Theon's thigh. Both their cocks fill with blood despite being exhausted, dehydrated, and hurting in more places than they can count.

Because Theon wants this, he longs for it so desperately. Obviously Robb has it similar.

And by all gods, drowned or not, why does he deserve to be tortured like this? Why is it him to be the one with at least little sense in mind? A man can only withhold to a certain point, and when Robb bucks his hips, it's a point that now has truly passed. 

So Theon shifts, grabs Robb's curls and slams their mouths together. 

Kissing him.

 _Finally_.

And never before in his life has anything felt so wonderful, while the tension eases, and it's just their lips pressing against each other for what feels like minutes or hours. As he covers Robb's mouth with force and determination, moans as he feels the slide of his tongue. Wondering where he learnt to kiss like that? 

But maybe he's just a natural, gifted with this talent like with everything else.

—

Theon yanks his fingers out of Robb's wet curls and secures them around his neck, deepening the kiss. It is the perfect pressure, perfect in the way he's moving his lips, his tongue. He kisses him like he was born to do so and Robb is sure he will never get enough of it. Rubbing the heavy weight of his erection against him, water splashing with every little movement. 

His breath hitches as Theon releases his mouth and instead continues his ministration along his jaw and his neck, licks the salt off him with every flick of his tongue.

"We should head back," Theon pants in stark contrast to the way he's sucking his skin and teasing his ass. "Or they'll find us."

"I don't care." 

And it's true, he doesn't. Doesn't care if they see what they do, know what they do. They could have died today and that without sharing even a single kiss. So right now Robb doesn't care if the ground splits open and swallows them whole. All he knows is that never in his life he wants to spend another day without kissing this man.

“Are you sure about this?” It seems like one of them needs a little more confirmation.

“Never been so sure about anything.”

Theon takes a small step back, searches Robb's face in the darkness. They can just make out each other's features in the moonlight, still he spots a small smile on his lover's lips. Smiles back as he kisses him one last time, messy and hungry, and then drops below the water surface without any warning.

And he doesn't waste any time now, takes him into his mouth, pushing his head forward to drive his cock deep into the warmth. Where Robb can do nothing but bite his fist to stop the loud moan coming up his throat. 

Then both his hands find their way between Theon's black strands, dancing softly around them. And he can't help but move, thrusting into this gloriously hot mouth. Rather than fighting against it, Theon hums around him and pulls at his hip to encourage him to do it again.

It feels marvellous. Hot and wet and slippery and perfect. And Robb wants nothing more than to see him. To see his cock sinking between his lips.

He loses track of everything but his need to move and remembering to breathe. His hips jutter forward, harder this time, and one of his hands scrabble to grasp at Theon's shoulder. The danger they faced, the emotional tangles they fought, the need and desire, everything comes crashing down on him. 

“Yes ... gods yes, _yes_ … Theon, _fuck_.” 

He chokes on a cry, and he bites his lip to muffle the sounds threatening to tear from him. Dangerously close to the edge, as Then does his best to take his cock all the way in with every thrust.

—

Oxygen becomes more and more a vital factor, and slowly Theon feels how his mind gets foggy and his thoughts start to blur in his head. But somehow he can't let go. Sucks Robb as if his life depends on it. Smacking and licking, clutching his ass so hard he might leave bruises.

It is Robb who saves him as he himself cannot. Pulling him up with a strong grip around his shoulders. 

And Theon gasps hard when he's back in the air, as water drips down his chin, waves that break around them causing the seaweed to shimmer in the moonlight.

Robb's eyes are intense and slightly frantic, his lips look swollen and shine with spit in the semi-darkness. Theon waits no further second to attack them. Grabs him hard around the back of his neck with one hand and kisses him roughly as he strokes him with the other.

Robb whines into his mouth, “oh, oh gods .. _uuh_.” A sound so honest and filthy that Theon’s own neglected cock gives a painful throb against Robb's thigh. 

“Come for me,” he whispers, _and scream my name so that all may hear it_.

He tilts his head, pressing his tongue into the dip between Robb's collarbones, inhaling the musky sweat glistening there and tasting the salt. By now Robb is reduced to a trembling mess beneath his hands. Reduced to desperate sound, shuddering and pleading, as Theon tightens his grip, closing his fist around his swollen head.

“I want to see you come.”

His shoulders bow as he pants and spills hard over Theon's fingers.

—

His knees are so weak he would have fallen if Theon wasn't supporting him, his breath coming in hitched gasps at every further touch of Theon's mouth. He's floating along in his afterglow, warm bliss spreading through his limbs as his cock releases the last drop of his seed.

Then finally Theon lets go of him, curls his fingers around himself and starts to pump his fist in a brutal rhythm. 

Where it doesn't take long until his breath comes in rapid bursts and Robb's spent cock gives another twitch at those needy sounds close to his ear. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Theon groans as he keeps his hand moving, growling in frustration, so close but not there yet. 

As soon as the fog in his mind has cleared somewhat, Robb reaches around him, sliding his hands over his ass, fingers seeking sensitive skin. He's hot there, the nature of the water provides the perfect friction. 

And Robb wants nothing more than to be all over, around him, inside him and feeling his pleasure pulse through him. But instead he settles for kissing him once more, slipping his tongue into his mouth as he flexes his index finger against the clenching hole, sinking slightly in before pulling free and then repeating the motion.

Theon does not respond with anything more than a wordless moan and another languid, sensual kiss.

Pushing against him and fucking himself on Robb's fingers, jerking his own cock with pure desperation. “ _Harder_ … more, _please_ , _more_ ,” he begs and Robb glady obeys.

His finger starts to mimic his tongue, plunging in and out, deeper, as he tries to give Theon enough stimulation to push him over the edge. Adds then a second, diving in past his knuckles, twisting them, curving them, taking up a ruthless pace. 

Theon's tensing up so badly, shaking, mouth falling open, no longer able to respond to the kiss. Instead he gives a short, sharp cry before managing to quiet himself, and he gaps and pants out several harsh breaths as he comes between their stomachs. His body’s arching until it has to be painful, still Robb spreads his fingers wide as the muscles pulse around them. 

Then Theon slums forward, just as Robb did. His head resting on his shoulder, as he's trying and failing to catch his breath. 

Robb gives him another second, then finally he pulls back his fingers, unable to contain his smile at the sharp hiss that Theon emits. Then gently strokes his back and kisses his wet hair, lips resting on his temple. “You alright?”

“More than,” Theon replies, muffled against his skin. 

They stay like this for a while. The sky by now is colored in countless shades of blue, while birds start to chirp their songs and the river continues to make its waves around them.

“I think we have to go back,” Theon says then, lifts his head and looks at Robb with a soft expression.

Both sighing, they finally separate from each other and set off with heavy steps, back to their clothes forgotten on the damp forest floor. Where none of them bother to dress more than necessary. Armour dragging behind them, with naked chest, Theon with bow and quiver over his shoulder, dripping wet they make their way back to the camp. 

Where they find Grey Wind standing guard just a few steps inside the forest. 

Robb scratches him behind the ears in praise, then uses the short break to have a look at his other companion. “You're coming with me, don't you?”

Instead of nodding, Theon hesitates and the grin on his lips is not one he means seriously, “don't you think your future wife has something to say about that?”

“Mayhaps, but it's something she won't know, will she?” 

All Theon does is arching an eyebrow. It was to be expected that he's not immediately convinced. So Robb drops his armour and approaches him with a soft smile of his own. 

“Listen,” he starts, “nobody knows what lies in the future, maybe we die, maybe she does. This war is far from over and –”

Out of nowhere Theon shushes him by pressing their lips together. Sloppy and lazy, nipping at his bottom lip before it's released. Then kisses him once more and again later in their bed. And the next morning and the morning after. 

Making up for all the kisses they missed and while doing so, without worrying about the future.

At least for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the other bingo stories by following this [link.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TGKB)  
> And please let me know what you think by leaving comments or kudos! ❤️


End file.
